Back In Iowa
by signaliduna78
Summary: A letter gets Alex thinking about - and willing to face - his past.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you might recognize!!_

_A/N This is NOT a happy fic. It also mentions both physical and potential sexual abuse (though not in detail), so please be warned._

_--_

Alex Karev was a smart guy. He usually relied on his brains and knowledge for information and did not readily accept anything other than cold hard facts. He felt uncomfortable 'assuming', or 'guessing', so whenever he could, he avoided those actions altogether.

That's why he could not explain why he had always had the _feeling_ that the next time he heard from his father, the contact wouldn't be made directly but via a third person of some sort, an outsider to the drama that was his family. He'd been right.

Beneficiary #2 to his old man's worldly possessions. It was there, in black and white. Holding the attorney's letter in both hands, he wasn't sure what he felt. It basically was a whole lot of nothing.

It wasn't relieve, because even though the son of a bitch had been a bastard, he'd never wish death on anybody - period.

It wasn't guilt, because even though it had been him who had ultimately driven the guy away, he had done what he thought was best at the time.

And it definitely wasn't sadness, because to him, his Dad had died the day he first saw him lay hands on his Mom with his own two eyes. It had been his sixth birthday.

That day, Cassie had come home late from school because one of her teachers had taken her to see a counselor about her less than satisfactory grades. He was going to wait for her outside because she had promised she'd take him to the bakery around the corner later to celebrate. As he came down the stairs, he saw his father beat on his mother in the kitchen, blood splattering across dirty white tile. He took off, running down the street as fast as he could, and didn't return until it got dark. Neither of his parents were to be seen when he got home, but Cassie was pacing the living room, sick of worry.

He smiled thinking of her.

Cassandra, his sister. She was five years older than him, and in an act of incredible strength and foresight, had managed to shield him from what was going on at home up until that point. Looking back, he had no clue how she had accomplished what she did. Sure, he had often heard his parents fight and argue and throw stuff, but as soon as they started, Cassie had called him to her 'room', which consisted of a few blankets that hung from the ceiling, and read to him, played with him or convinced him with child-like logic that what he was hearing was normal and nothing to worry about. As long as she was there, he had always felt somewhat safe and protected. Well, as safe and protected as one could possibly feel in the dump that was their home - with broken windows, a door that would not lock and the continuous drive-by's a couple of streets down.

To this day, he could not figure out why they had never even been robbed once. It was either that his Dad had had a reputation or it had been so clearly visible that there was nothing to be stolen from that piece of shit 'house' that no one ever tried. He guessed it was the latter.

His sister had not been there the day him and his friends had beaten his father into the hospital and out of their lives forever. In fact, his sister had not been there for much of his youth. She'd split the day after his eleventh birthday. More than 18 years ago, and he had never seen her since. When they were younger, their father had mostly just ignored them. Looking back, those were wonderful times. In college, after he'd had the chance to somewhat distance himself from his past, he had come to suspect that as Cassie had gotten older, their father had committed crimes that were so much worse than his drug-taking or beating someone up could ever be. However, he had had no proof and to this day he prayed with all his heart that he would never know the truth. Sometimes, ignorance could be bliss after all.

Still, he often wondered whatever had happened to his sister. If she had a good life, if she knew their mother had passed away – and if she was sitting somewhere now, holding that same letter in her hands.

Soon after his sister had run off, the beatings started for Alex as well. He guessed he'd been pretty lucky to reach the glorious age of eleven with hardly more than the occasional slap in the face, considering what his Dad was capable of. Well, his luck had run out. With Cassie gone to shield him from this hellhole, Alex now saw and heard more than he'd ever care to repeat. Before that defining moment in time, his short life had been filled with many tears. Tears for the sick bird he couldn't rescue, tears for another bad grade and tears for the lack of presents under the non-existing Christmas tree. Now, the thought manifested itself in his mind that if his Dad was beating the crap out of him, he'd have less energy for his Mom, so he took the abuse without so much as a sound. Yeah, it was around that time that he'd stopped crying. Eventually, he had told himself, he'd fight back.

The time until he was ready to do so was spent on the streets. There, he had found his first true friends in life – kids, who came from the same backgrounds, some a little better off, some even worse. They formed their own little gang because they wanted to be respected by the older guys on the block. And what a hard-earned respect it was. What he sometimes saw depicted in highly exaggerated, modern gangsta flicks, had been an actual part of his reality. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

And his colleagues in general, Izzie in particular, wondered why he was hesitant to talk about his past – he'd doubted they would actually believe him when he told stories of guns and drugs and being chased by ten police cars at the same time.

Most of those boys from his old 'hood' were now dead or in jail, and he had absolutely no idea how he had managed to get to where he was today without a single entry in his criminal records. He was the type of person who didn't even condone taking gum from the store without paying, and had _always_ been able to tell right from wrong, so he couldn't exactly explain that phase of his life away.

It was only natural he guessed, that his girlfriend would eventually want to know more about his past, so he had met Izzie in the middle with a half-truth about how his old man had ended up in the hospital. The reality was that he and three of his buddies had done the job together, because even though he'd been 16 and on his way to a wrestling-scholarship, he was still so afraid of his father that he'd started shaking as soon as he'd heard his voice.

After that fateful day, he'd gotten his life somewhat in order. Had to, because his Mom became sick. Depression is what they said, addiction is what he thought. It was like his father had been her drug and without him, she couldn't – no, wouldn't – exist.

The time in college after his mother's death had been a blur of sports and sex and alcohol, and he often thought that he must've been born a near-fucking genius to be able to keep up the grades required for med-school. He also didn't remember that he had consciously decided he wanted to become a doctor. All of a sudden he'd been on this path that he wasn't even sure he'd chosen. Almost made him belief in a higher power after all.

He stared back down at the letter in his hand. Would he go to Iowa for the reading of his father's last will? Drugs did not just appear on somebody's doorstep, so he doubted the guy had anything else than an excruciating amount of debt. On the other hand, this situation he found himself in presented the unique opportunity for closure that he _knew _he needed.

Alex sighed. Perhaps the time had come to tell his story after all. He ascended the stairs to Izzie's room. Maybe he'd start with his sixth birthday…

--

_A/N I see possibilities for this being more than a one-shot, but I'm not too sure. What do you think? And even if you have no thoughts on the matter, please review anyways ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I love getting those ;) __This chapter is Cassie's POV…_

_--_

Cassandra Martins leaned against her kitchen counter, sifting through the mail that she had just brought in from outside. No bills this time, just some realtor ads, a coupon book and something about a new place with free pizza delivery. She was about to throw it all out when the last, official-looking, envelope caught her eye.

A return address from Iowa.

Her heart stopped beating for a second. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then – stared. Stared at the letter as if it was made of poison. She felt sick to her stomach and was worried she'd throw up any minute if that sudden nervousness that had appeared in an instant wouldn't disappear as quickly as it had come.

The thought of pretending she'd never seen the piece of paper and just throwing it out with the rest of the junk crossed her mind. However, she would always _know _that it had been there - so she did the next best thing and ripped it open quickly. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she finally persuaded herself to read whatever it was that she held in her shaking hands.

After she'd finished, she stared again. This time across the table and out of the window. The man that had donated his sperm to bring her into existence was no more. She wondered briefly what one could possibly inherit from an alcoholic/drug addict that had been basically homeless for his entire life – that was if you didn't count the hut that had been their 'home' when the whole family, in the most ironic sense of the word, had all still lived under one roof. Besides that thought, there was NOTHING. She had never felt so numb, and in this particular moment, it was almost like she couldn't even remember ever feeling anything at all. Tears flooded her eyes because of it, yet she refused to let them fall.

As she was concentrating on _not _crying, Cassandra thought back to the day she had left her much-hated home state of Iowa to start a new life in California. She had been 16, and in the weeks leading up to it, her father had made certain 'advances', that she had pushed into the far back of her mind until today. Even though he had never managed to rape her in the actual horrible sense of the word, she was sure now that it would only have been a matter of time.

Back then, two friends of hers, both a couple of years older and from the same neighborhood, had talked about moving far far away to escape their own life of daily abuse and violence. So when they had presented her with a Greyhound bus ticket to Los Angeles one morning, her decision was made. She knew her parents would never look for her, if they'd even realize she was missing at all. So within a day, she had packed her scarce belongings and spent the night before the big journey wrapped tightly in her dirty blankets, praying with all she had that her Dad would not choose this night to come home semi-sober.

Alex had lain next to her that evening, so she told him she loved him for the last time. When he had fallen asleep, she got up quietly and left for her friend's house. She knew she wouldn't go anywhere if she'd spent the night next to her brother. She had wanted to take him to California too, but her girls had talked her out of it. Too young, too great of a responsibility, think of the potential consequences. One day, when you have some money saved up, they'd said, you'll come back for him.

And she had in a way. Almost ten years later – she had already been married for a couple of years – she'd returned to her hometown. Her husband Michael had stayed in California for work, and as she had walked down her old street, she couldn't recall what had possessed her to come in the first place. However, as fate would have it, she had run into an old neighbor at the local convenience store, gladly accepting his invitation to dinner. His wife had still been alive at the time, and that evening, over fried chicken and coleslaw, she listened to her family's story as if she was watching a movie – a rough, abbreviated version of what it must've really been like. Her father's forced exit, Alex's 'almost'-brushes with the law, their mother's death. After she had left the Johnson residence that night, she went straight to the cemetery to look for her Mom's gravesite. Once she had found it, she'd sat down on the cold grass and wept for hours. She flew back home the next morning.

That day in Iowa, she'd also learned that her brother had gone off to college somewhere locally, but no one was too sure where that 'somewhere' was. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't regret leaving her baby brother in the arms of her volatile father and her helpless mother, and even though he was the only one still alive, it was losing him that had hurt the most.

As opposed to her upbringing in Iowa, California had turned out to become a real-life fairytale, and sometimes she still couldn't believe how well everything had gone. It almost was the typical story that dreams were made of. Job as a waitress, handsome customer turned husband, 4-year old twin boys and a 6-year old girl. Of course there had been ups and downs and struggles along the way, but for her, it was near damn perfect. Michael knew about her past, yet she had spared him the gory details.

Cassandra sighed again, pushed her auburn hair out of her face and closed her eyes. Her husband and kids had chosen this exact weekend for a visit with her parents-in-law down in San Diego, and she wondered if it really was pure coincidence only that left her home alone now. She looked down at the letter again. The attorney's office – no surprise there – had a phone number. She hesitated.

Maybe now was the time to face her past. And there was only one person she could face it with – because he had lived it alongside her.

--

_Please review again. Thank you!!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N Thanks to all those lovely people who have reviewed :)_

--

Alex lay in bed, looking out the window where dawn had just begun to break. His arms were wrapped tightly around Izzie, who was beautiful even now, in the wee hours of the morning – and who appeared to be sleeping soundly still. He had been wide awake for most of the night, not being able to shut his mind, that had been working on overdrive, off.

Childhood – letter – another dead parent. Last night, he had finally drawn the conclusion that not everything in life could be solved all alone by himself, and had initiated a conversation with Izzie that he was sure his girlfriend had not seen coming. Sure, it had not been the overly emotional tale of a kid who had nothing, fought for everything and blamed everyone else. True to himself, he had instead given her a brutally honest account of all that had not been great in a life that was far from perfect.

Izzie had listened without so much as a word, expressions of horror and disbelief and pity gracing her features every so often. It was exactly what he didn't want, yet exactly what he knew was appropriate. Had he been the recipient of such news, he doubted he would have been able to stay unaffected. When he had told her all that he felt comfortable with that evening, she had taken him into her arms and they had just lain like that – together, no questions, no answers, no judgments. It was that moment when he had realized that she was probably 'it' for him. He seriously doubted he could ever feel as 'at home' with anyone else, as he did with her. Telling her that however would be another conversation she would not see coming, and he figured he'd give them some more time.

The changing numbers of the alarm clock brought him back to the present. Today was a new day, and he still had a decision to make about his father's will, so he closed his eyes again and fell into a fitful slumber.

--

Cassandra had no clue about court or law or attorney's or any of that. And thankfully, up until today, she had never felt the necessity to deepen her knowledge. She did, however, have a pretty good feeling that the way she had talked the secretary of the attorney's office that was handling their father's last will, into giving her her brother's telephone number, had been shady at best. Shady and fun.

But that had transpired this afternoon. Currently, she was pacing her living room, dialing an unfamiliar number with shaking fingers. She was _this close_ to slamming the receiver back down onto its cradle after the first ring. And again after the second. And when she was on her way to doing exactly what she wanted after the third, she heard a female voice answer.

"Hello?"

A million thoughts crossed her mind in a split second. Had she punched in the wrong numbers? Was this really her brother's residence? What if he didn't want to talk to her? Hated her even, for what she had done. What if _she_ wasn't ready to talk to _him_? After all it had been almost two decades…Would they still get along? And who was this woman that had picked up the phone? Was she talking to her brother's friend or girlfriend, or her sister-in-law?

"Hellooo?" came the impatient voice over the line again. Her inner turmoil must've had taken her longer to sort out than she realized and she figured now would be the time to say something. Anything at all.

"Ok listen, if this is some sort of prank call…"

She took a deep breath and interrupted the unknown lady. "No, no no…it's not. I'm sorry…I know it's late, but I was just wondering…Ummm…Is Alexander Karev around?

"Why? Who's calling?"

So he was there. Deep breath again. She thought she was about to faint.

"Just…could I talk to him?" Suave.

"You can if you tell me who you are – or what this is about for that matter. Alex is…a friend of mine, and I won't just put him on the phone with some weirdo that's…I don't know…bored or crazy or something…"

Protective. Interesting. The way her conversational partner had stressed the word _friend _led Cassandra to believe that there was actually more to it than that. People that knew her well sometimes called her perceptive, she liked to think of herself as observant more than anything. But she was not having this conversation to analyze her brother's love life – or lack thereof – so she found her voice again.

'Hey, my sister took off when I was eleven, never heard from her again, but gee, what a lovely childhood I had after that' was not necessarily something that came up during casual conversation. Therefore, since she had no clue if Alex had ever mentioned his relatives at all, she went with the other truth.

"I'm Cassie." A short pause on the other side. Ok…maybe he had.

"Cassie who?" Ok, so he definitely had.

"Cassandra Martins." It wasn't a lie.

The other woman hesitated. "Give me a minute." Well, Cassie thought, her brother's 'friend' certainly wasn't politeness personified, but as long as whoever 'she' was, was looking out for him, Cassie wouldn't complain.

A short while – too short for her, given her current situation – and some muffled sounds later, another voice came on.

"Hello?" He sounded anxious and weary and most of all – grown up. It brought tears to her eyes instantly, but she refused to let them fall once more.

"Alex?" Silence for a while. She could not picture the expression on his face – it had been too long – yet she was willing to bet it had something to do with skepticism. Maybe even fear? Crossing paths with one's past was never exactly cause for celebration if you came from a background like theirs.

After a few more seconds, she heard him again. "Cass? Oh my God…Is that really you?"

She wasn't able to come up with anything intelligent given the state she was in, so she went with the obvious. "Yeah…it's me."

The rest of their short exchange was overshadowed by a haze of her held back tears mixed with his disbelief and amazement, along with promises of an actual meeting – after nearly twenty years, at an attorney's office half-way across the country, to assure themselves personally of their father's demise.

After putting the receiver down, Cassandra was _this_ close to a nervous breakdown. Her whole body was shaking and she could not clear her head enough to be able to digest the very first conversation she just had with her brother in forever. It definitely had been somewhat…formal. Not too much emotion on display, but knowing them, this simple fact came as no surprise. They had been raised to know better. Emotion was for crybabies. Apparently, she had turned into one along the way, because now, after hanging up, she was outright sobbing – without a clue as to how she felt about what had just transpired.

With still shaking fingers, she dialed the – this time familiar – number to her husbands cell phone. She would have to find a way to tell him that she was going to Iowa next week.

--

Alex was sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, staring at the floor. Izzie, who had left the room after handing him the phone earlier, was now back to make sure he was ok – and to enquire about the call. He didn't know what to tell her.

How do you describe your first conversation in 18 years with a person who had been your entire life – until she ceased to be in it? He had no answer. So he continued to stare some more. He felt Izzie sit down next to him, her hand stroking his back lovingly, mumbling something about cookies and hot chocolate and being there when and if he was ready to confide in her.

Turning his head sideways, all he saw was her caring eyes, her 'being there', and in a split second, he made a decision. "Hey Iz…How do you feel about a trip to Iowa?"

--

_Please review again. Thank you!!_


	4. Chapter 4

Cassandra Martins was pacing – again. She had done a lot of that lately, mostly in her own home, and was getting tired of it. This time, at least the location was different. This time, she was pacing in freakin' Iowa. In front of a golden sign with black italic letters.

_Ackerman, McCarthy & Dunnes. Attorneys at law._

She was so nervous that, had she smoked, she would've been on her third pack that day. Something to that extent. She didn't know if it was humanly possible to inhale that much crap, but she sure would have tried.

She looked down the street once more. Still nobody that could qualify as Alex. She did notice a small coffee shop though, squeezed in between the massive high-rise buildings that made up part of the business district of Des Moines. The perfect place for a drink with a man she had not seen since he'd been a dependent little boy. It was hard to imagine. In their second phone call since 'the letter', her and Alex had agreed to meet up early today, to 'catch up', if you could call it that. She laughed at her thought process. Catching up is what friends did when one came back from vacation. How did you call the first encounter between two siblings who, up until a few days ago, hadn't even known if the other was still alive? Surly the word for _that_ kind of catching up had yet to be invented.

She raised her eyes skyward and took in the structure that housed the attorney's headquarters. The building looked daunting and posh, and she had no idea how her father's last wishes had made it into the offices of a law firm that clearly didn't operate on the low end of the market.

When she scanned the area again, she saw an extremely handsome guy walking towards her, holding hands with a pretty blonde who appeared to be just as nervous as him. She took a calming breath while her stomach was doing flip flops. This was it.

--

As Alex and Izzie were walking down a busy street, looking for the number they had been given, he relied on his girlfriend's navigation skills to actually locate the correct address. He was too busy being anxious. He could not concentrate on numbers when every passing woman could be a potential long lost sister. He couldn't help but speculate…The phone calls between him and Cassie had been somewhat 'distant', so he wondered if their first encounter would be the same. Or worse, uneasy and awkward.

As he was about to find out, there was no time for awkwardness because as soon as Cassie had spotted them, she flung herself into his arms. Alex Karev reminded himself that he did _not_ cry period, but as he was hugging his sister for the first time in his adult life, he had to conjure up an enormous amount of strength to keep his silent promise from back in the day.

After what felt like a second, but in reality had probably been a good minute at least, Cassie pulled back and, with tears streaming down her face, threw her arms around Izzie, who had started crying the second the siblings met. He could not put into words how much he loved that about her – her ability to care for others so deeply that she was just as invested in the outcome of this story as if it was her own.

As he watched both women sob openly in the middle of the street, he closed his eyes for a second, trying to keep his emotions in check. It was too unimaginable that whatever was happening was _actually_ happening, so when his sister hugged him again, a silent tear made its way down his cheek. Well, what the hell...Cassie was one of the few persons who'd seen him cry before - no reason to start pretending now...

After regaining his composure, and after the initial 'shock' had worn off for everyone, Alex and his two companions decided on some coffee after all, even though he seriously doubted that caffeine would help calm their nerves.

--

A couple of hours, and some 'catching up' later, brother and sister entered the office they had been directed to a few minutes earlier. They immediately noticed another woman in her sixties, sitting in one of the plush leather chairs provided for clients. She had obviously just stopped crying from the looks of it, as she was dabbing her swollen, red eyes with a tissue. When said woman introduced herself as Mrs. Karev, the pair looked at each other. Alex was glad that even two decades of no contact had not taken away the ability to read his sister's mind. He suspected it still worked the other way around as well.

'Mrs. Karev' shook both of their hands and offered her sincerest condolences, leaving no doubt in Alex's heart that her husband's attention to detail had suffered from his drug intake over the years. He wondered briefly if the lady opposite of him had even known her husband had had kids at all, but since she didn't seem to be too shocked by their presence, maybe he had fed her some half-truths about the bitch that was his ex-wife, who had kept his beloved children from him. In any case, Marie Karev seemed to be honestly devastated by their father's death, which, to Alex, was a miracle in itself. Cassie looked like she was no less astounded. She opened her mouth to say something when Mr. Jasper Dunnes, an unfortunate looking fellow by any means, 'inheritance attorney extraordinaire' according to his own introductions, entered.

Not even five minutes later, the deed was done. House, car, dog, savings bond - everything went to the second wife. While that did not come as a surprise to neither Cassie nor Alex, the simple fact that their father had even owned a house, car, dog and savings bond, left them speechless. Before they could ask any questions however, Mr. Extraordinaire had stuffed his papers back into his ugly looking green folder, looked at his Rolex and then, from behind his Gucci glasses, at them, daring them to speak. He obviously had more important matters to take care of. So when, after a good three seconds, nobody had opened their mouth, he all but jumped up from his chair, shaking everyone's hands quickly. And like a whirlwind, as fast as he had entered, he was out of the room again, leaving Alex to wonder if the past few minutes had even taken place. But then he looked to his left and saw two women he never thought he'd see. One was Cassie, the other a 'second' Mrs. Karev - the latter being the actual shocker - so he guessed it was real after all.

With nothing left to do, the threesome exited Mr. Dunnes office. Marie had to stay behind to take care of some extra formalities, so she turned to the two siblings in the hallway and started her monologue without further ado. "Again, I'm really sorry for your loss. You're Dad was a great guy, and though he never talked much about you guys, he must have been really proud of each one of you. God bless his soul, he'll be dearly missed."

The pair looked at her, then at each other, with questioning eyes and an unbelieving smile. Had their old man done a 'one-eighty' and actually managed to turn his life around? Was that lady telling the truth, or had she lived her life in denial, just like their mother? Alex guessed they would never know, for he was sure they would not take her up on her offer to stay in touch. Instead, they said their goodbyes and stepped out onto the street, where Izzie was waiting for them.

"And?"

Alex was the first one to find his voice. "Well…apparently we have a step-mom who wants to keep in touch, and a dead father who actually owned stuff. Like real, functioning things that worked…" He sounded just as amazed as Cassie looked.

Izzie took her boyfriend's hand in hers as they walked into the direction of their rental car. "Hmmm…interesting…"

A third voice spoke up. "Interesting, my ass…what I wouldn't give to get the truth behind that freakin' story."

"Cass! Oh my God, watch your language!"

Cassandra smiled up at her brother. "Isn't that what I used to tell _you_?"

He put his free arm around her, hugging her close once more. "What can I say? You taught me well…"

--

After dinner that night, amidst more tears from the ladies, hugs and promises of never becoming strangers again, the time had come to say goodbye.

Alex and Cassandra realized they were not were they used to be – in every sense of those words. They still had so much more to say, to do, to find out. But knowing that now they actually _could_ had definitely made the dreaded trip back to Iowa worth it for the Karev siblings. And while the circumstances of their father's death and the details of his second life would probably forever remain a mystery to both, they left for their respective homes the next morning with the certainty of having found each other. No inheritance could be worth more, no gift could be greater.

--

_The end. Thank you again for all of your lovely reviews! They made me finish this story :)_


End file.
